The Rose Potter Saga
by Cloudcity'sBookworm
Summary: What if Harry James Potter had never been born? What if Rose Amelia Potter had been born instead? *HIATUS/May Continue*
1. Rose Potter: the Girl Who Lived

**Hello, my fellow Potterheads! How are you? Good? Bad? I hope that you're all doing well. **

**As many of you are aware, I have taken down my original draft of ****_The Rose Potter Saga. _****Reason: It wasn't the best that it could have been. My facts were incorrect, the grammar was horrible, and I'd rather not talk about the spelling. I can honestly say that I did not put enough effort into the story.**

**When I re-read this story, I felt disappointed with myself. So, what did I decide to do? Simple: Re-write it, do more research, and hire a beta. **

**Now, without further ado, I give you the new and improved ****_Rose Potter Saga._**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_Harry Potter _****in any way, shape, or form. J.K. Rowling does.**

**Beta reader: HarryGinnyRonHermione. Thank you so much for helping me with Rose's story! You did such an amazing job :)**

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><p>The first of November was a cool night. However, the chilly air didn't prevent a certain someone from treading down an empty road known as Privet Drive. Walking down this strip of pavement was an odd-looking elderly man. He wore what looked like long, purple robes and high-heeled, buckled boots. This made him stick out like a sore thumb. (A perfectly normal neighborhood and a . . . not so normal man do not mix well.)<p>

As this peculiar person made his way down the road - as if it were an everyday activity for him - he searched his cloak for something. Eventually, he found it. He took the object - which looked like a silver cigarette lighter - out, flicked it open, held it high up in the air, and clicked it. Suddenly, the nearest street lamp went out, making a tiny_ pop_ sound as it dimmed. At this, the blue-eyed man gave a light chuckle. He repeated this until every single light was out - excluding the moon, stars, and two distant pinpricks that looked like baby fireflies. Satisfied, the stranger put the lighter back into the pocket it came from and continued his late night stroll.

To the right of him, he heard a soft mew. Looking down, he saw the source of the sound: A tabby cat. "Good evening, Minerva," he greeted the animal.

At this, the feline transformed into a woman who wore clothing similar to the man's. "Albus," she said in response. "Is this such a good idea? People are beginning to talk. They're calling her the Girl Who Lived. What if she's found? I don't want to even think about what You-Know-Who would do if he were to find her," Minerva expressed her worries as the two continued on, emerald cloak brushing the ground behind her.

"Minerva. You mustn't worry. I'm sure that living with her Muggle family will be the last thing to cross Voldemort's" - Minerva gave a slight flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name - "or anyone else's minds. And you do not need to fear his true name, my dear. It will make you as stiff as a tabby."

Minerva fixed her glare on the bearded, silver-haired man.

Smiling, Albus held out a small tin that looked bizarre to his companion. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?"

"It's a Muggle candy. It's not as good as a sherbert lemon drop, but it still fascinates me, none-the-less."

"No, thank you," she said stiffly, as if he had offered her some form of poison.

Albus shrugged his shoulders, as if saying 'Suit yourself' before placing a yellow sweet into his mouth.

Minerva remained silent until they came across a rather ordinary-looking home. For the following few minutes, Minerva complained how it seemed everyone was acting "completely idiotic." ("Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . . You'd think they'd be a bit more careful.") Once she was done, the venting woman became silent, afraid to ask the one question she wanted to know the official answer to. "Tell me, Professor Dumbledore. Is it true? The rumors about Lily and James?"

"I'm afraid that they are."

Minerva felt a pain begin to overtake her heart, like a Dementor had decided to make a permanent residence in the beating organ. James, a mischievous, wild-haired boy, whom excelled in the subject, Transfiguration, she taught and yet always seemed to find a way to annoy her whenever he was around his troublesome group of mates. And sweet, beautiful Lily. A young girl so full of life and fire that it was impossible for her former professor to comprehend that she was gone.

"I didn't want to believe it. So, it's true, then? They are dead? Killed by You-Know . . . Voldemort?" she corrected herself.

"Yes, it is."

After another moment of silence, Minerva changed the conversation in an attempt to forget the awful news. "Where is Hagrid? He should be here by now."

"Now, now. You mustn't worry. She is in good hands with Hagrid. They'll be here soon enough."

Just then, as if on cue, a flying motorcycle with a giant man on it came out of the sky and landed on the street.

"Oh, Hagrid . . . . Is the child safe?" asked Minerva, concerned, as Hagrid got off the enchanted vehicle.

"Yep. She's all righ'. Have 'er all bundled up nice an' tigh'." Hagrid took a basket off of the flying machine. Inside was a female infant wrapped in a knitted, powder pink blanket.

"No problems, I hope, Hagrid?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

The beast of a man shook his head. "No, sir," Hagrid said, as if proud with himself. "House was almos' destroyed, but I got 'er out right before the Muggles came. She fell asleep as soon as we took off."

The funny-looking trio looked down at the sleeping baby, whom was oblivious to what had just happened, before turning and walking up to her destination's doorstep.

Minerva fought the urge to take the innocent and run away with her. She was not very keen on giving the infant to this horrid family of hers whom she'd spent the whole day watching. And to make matters worse, Professor Dumbledore planed on leaving only a letter to explain what had happened in the recent days!

Once they stood in front of the door, Minerva said, "Alright, Hagrid. Put her down."

"Aw, but she's ter cute ter pass up so easily. Are yeh sure we can' keep 'er?" he asked while cooing at the baby.

"As much fun that would be," said Professor Dumbledore, "it would only put her in even more danger."

Realizing that the old man was right, Hagrid reluctantly put the child down. Once she was situated, Hagrid sniffed, Minerva gave a wistful sigh, and Professor Dumbledore moved the little girl's bangs away from her small forehead, revealing a tiny lightning bolt scar. "Good luck, Rose Potter," he whispered in a soft tone of voice.

After placing a note beside Rose, the friends shared a quick look.

Once he returned the light he'd trapped inside of the object that resembled a silver cigarette lighter, Professor Dumbledore nodded his head and swished his clock, disappearing like mist on a summer's day. Hagrid snifed, once again, as he got back onto his motorcycle and flew off into the ink-black sky.

Minerva watched the huge man ride away until he became nothing more than another glimmering star. All the while, the stern-looking woman thought of the tiny girl who slept in her temporary bed, unaware of how famous she would one day become. Unaware of how amazing her mother and father were, sacrificing themselves so she could live a life of her own. Unaware that one day she would save the world that she belonged in, as well as the world she would grow up in. Unaware that she had survived a curse that should have killed her, that the wizard who had cast it was the most evil warlock to ever walk the face of the Earth, that she'd accidentally defeated him.

_It's funny, _thought Minerva, _how peaceful she is. One day she'll be a legend. I wouldn't be surprised if they make a Rose Potter Day in the future. Books will even be written about her. Every child in our world will know her name! And these foolish Muggles will never _truly _know how special she is. _

Sighing, Professor Minerva McGonagal turned back into a cat and trotted off into the night.

As daylight slowly approached, Rose Potter slept on, unaware of the adventures - and destiny - that awaited her.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Now, off to my TV. <strong>**_The Oscars_**** are on, and I must watch :)**


	2. Number Four Privet Drive

**Disclaimer: I don't own ****_Harry_ _Potter_. ****Our mighty ruler, J.K. Rowling, does.**

**Beta reader: HarryGinnyRonHermione. She rocks! You should check out her stories :)**

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><p>The very next day, the Muggles whom Rose had been given to were very surprised to see an infant resting on their front step. In fact, the recently orphaned child's aunt - her late mother's older sister - was given the honor of finding the little girl when she opened the front door to place her family's empty milk bottles outside.<p>

Of course, the natural thing for anyone to do when in a situation such as this is scream. And that is exactly what happened.

Rose's aunt made a noise so loud that her husband yelled from the kitchen "Whatever's the matter?!" The shocked woman then replied "There's . . . there's a baby on our doorstep." (He didn't believe her since babies don't fall from the sky and land on peoples' doorsteps.)

Taking a closer look at the bundle, she noticed that they looked very familiar . . . like the newborn in the photo her sister and brother-in-law had sent her over a year ago, announcing the birth of their daughter. Bending down, she saw that it was indeed that child - just a year older with messy, jet-black hair. She also noticed a note in her niece's tiny fist.

Taking the note out of the still sleeping infant's hand, she opened it and read the letter. She felt her heart stop within her chest.

Making sure she hadn't misread it, the woman scanned the letter a second, third, fourth, fifth time. Each time she finished, the news was still the same: Her little sister, Lily, was dead - as well as her troublesome brother-in-law, James.

A brief feeling of grief took over her heart.

Lily? _Dead_? It can't be. But, then again, if she's dead - murdered, like the letter had said - then it was her own fault. If she wasn't such a freak, she wouldn't be a decomposing corpse.

The note, however, also stated that she - Petunia Dursley - and her husband - Vernon Dursley - were now the guardians of one Rose Amelia Potter.

_I can't believe that she left me her child! Now she's _my_ burden. Well, I don't want it! _

Glancing down at the child and then back up at her neighbor's yard, she saw Mr. Robertson putting out his empty milk bottles.

Grumbling, Petunia knelt down and picked the basket which held the tiny devil up. She didn't need people talking about the perfectly normal Dursley family having a peculiar package on their doorstep. (She and her husband enjoyed being normal, thank you very much.)

_I can't believe_ _her_, Petunia angrily thought to herself. _That little witch, going and getting herself killed. Not only that, but she's left her daughter with _me_! The nerve._

What happened next caught Petunia completely off-guard. Upon looking down at her niece a third time, she watched as the baby's eyelids slowly opened, revealing a pair of emerald green eyes. _Her_ eyes. Petunia felt herself freeze. These tiny eyes reminded her of something she once knew. What that was, she couldn't remember. (What do you expect of someone who'd just woken up?)

The infant smiled upon seeing her aunt's face, giggling like she'd just seen an adorable puppy do a funny trick. Reaching her small hand out of her knitted cocoon, she grabbed the nearest thing it found: Her aunt's finger.

At that very moment, something changed inside of Petunia that she would never be able to explain. She felt a love - a motherly bond - pass between her and her dead sister's child, as if Rose was hers and only hers.

Slowly, the bewildered woman closed the door behind her and began to walk into the kitchen where her husband sat, waiting for his breakfast. When he saw his wife, he asked, "What is _that_?"

Petunia looked up at her husband. "The baby I found on our doorstep."

"The _what_?"

"The baby. That I told you was on our doorstep." Petunia pulled back the blanket, revealing a now sleeping Rose, still holding onto her aunt.

"Blimmey. I didn't think you were being serious."

"Yes, I was being serious. When haven't I been?"

Vernon grunted in agreement.

"But, Vernon dear. She's not just any baby. She's our niece."

"Our _what_?" he asked, not believing what his wife had just said.

"Our niece." Petunia handed the letter she'd found only minutes before to her doubtful husband. "Lily and James left her to us," she said as she continued to gaze at the infant napping in her arms.

Vernon did the same thing Petunia had done with the letter. He scanned it a second, third, fourth, fifth time. "That woman. How _dare_ she? Why, if she wasn't already dead, I'd strangle her myself!"

The cry of another child made its way down to the couple.

Petunia sighed. "Dudley's up. I need to change his nappy. Hold Rose for me." Without waiting for her husband's reply, Petunia placed Rose into Vernon's beefy arms and made her way to the stairs.

The upset man didn't know what to do but hold the child, his body tense. He only glanced down at his niece a couple of times.

You'd think the same thing that happened to Petunia Dursley would have happened to him, but it didn't. In fact, if anything _did_ happen, he only felt the same way he did when his wife brought the tiny excuse of a thing into the place where they ate their breakfast.

Vernon felt a great amount of relief when Petunia came back alone, immediately taking the baby from him. Petunia began to admire Rose again. "Duddykins just felt a bit fussy. He went back to sleep after I changed him."

In all of the days that Vernon Dursley had known his wife, he had never seen the look that was on her face (well, other than the first time he saw his bride hold their just-born son). This was the look of a mother: Happy, hopeful, proud of the human being that she had spent hours upon hours struggling to bring into this world. It was in that exact moment he knew that Rose Potter was here to stay.

Sighing, Vernon said, "I'll clean out the spare room for her. Maybe we can find an extra crib in the attic." Looking at the baby again, he stated, "I expect that this child will be raised _properly_."

"Of course, dear. What other way could there be?"

_Yes_, Petunia thought, _I will raise her the way she should be: __Normal and _completely_ ordinary_.

The way that the Dursley's saw their unique situation was a chance to raise Lily's daughter into the woman Lily herself should have been: An ordinary citizen of England.

Little did they know was that no matter what they did, the offspring of James and Lily Potter would become whatever she would have been if her birth parents had raised her: Magical and _definitely_ not normal.


	3. The Vanishing Glass

**Hello! Sorry that it's been a bit since I last updated. Real life got a hold of me. Research papers are not very fun, by the way . . . . I also had a musical to prepare for, so . . . yeah. And of course, I was being lazy . . . again. But now I'm back, so enjoy this chapter! I know I did :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_. J.K. Rowling does**

**Beta reader: CallaLily13, formally known as HarryGinnyRonHermione. Thanks again, CallaLily13. You're the best!**

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><p>"Rosie!" called Dudley Dursley. "Rosie, wake up!"<p>

"Go away!" Rose Potter groaned in response. She heard her door open, which was soon followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

"Rosie, please get up," begged Dudley.

"Leave me alone!" she hissed, burying herself deep within her sheets. She placed her pillow around her head like she was trying to block out an unbearable noise.

"Rosie!"

Silence.

"Rose?"

More silence.

"Come on, Rose!"

Even more silence followed.

Eventually, Rose heard Dudley leave her bedside.

_F__inally_, she sighed inside of her head, glad that her alarm clock had finally left. But the perfect silence didn't last forever. Soon, a great weight was on top of her. "Eek!" Rose screeched. "Get off of me, Dudley!"

"Nope. Not until you open your eyes."

"No."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Frustrated, Rose slowly opened her eyes. Dudley smiled upon seeing this. "There. There's those pretty green eyes."

Rose, by the way, was not a happy camper. Her long, black hair was a mess of tangles and knots, eyes narrowed into stony slits. "Why did you wake me?" Rose growled.

Dudley smiled, as if his cousin's anger was an entertaining pass-time. "Well, it's almost noon, and I think Mum wants us to go outside today. It's the coolest Saturday we've had in weeks."

Not long after, the ten-year-old got out of bed, put on her glasses, slipped on her slippers, and headed towards the loo. Twelve minutes later, Rose went downstairs and grabbed a package of strawberry pop tarts and a glass of milk. Her aunt, Petunia, was busy knitting a jumper in the living room. She didn't seem to mind when Rose turned on the radio. She didn't even seem to mind -

"You're up late," stated Aunt Petunia.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I hope you're not eating anything. I was about to start making lunch."

"Yum."

Aunt Petunia sighed. "Just get ready for the day. Remember, an appropriate skirt _and_ shirt."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," said Rose around a mouth full of food. She gulped down the remainder of her meal before chasing it down with the rest of her drink. Before she raced up the stairs, Rose wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"And don't wear Dudley's shorts!" Aunt Petunia called after her.

"Blimmey. She's good," Rose mumbled under her breath.

"I heard that."

_Too good._

~R~P~

Rose returned to the kitchen once dressed. Her hair was in braided pigtails. She wore a blue blouse, a matching plaid skirt, white stockings, and a pair of brown, buckled shoes. She found her aunt and cousin eating lunch.

Rose sat down in her spot and took a peanut butter and ants, which Aunt Petunia had made to go with the sandwiches she had prepared.

"Good. You're ready for the day," said Aunt Petunia.

"Yes," Rose said as she picked the raisins off of her snack, placing them on a napkin.

Glancing at her niece then the dried-up fruit that had been placed aside, Aunt Petunia scolded, "Rose. Don't pick at your food."

Ashamed of being caught in the act, Rose apologized, "Sorry, Aunt Petunia." Turning to her cousin, she offered up her unwanted fruit. Dudley happily took it. If Aunt Petunia saw this, she didn't say anything. Instead, she suggested that the two of them go outside and enjoy the day.

"Yes! We should. What do you say, Rose?" asked Dudley.

Eager to do something, Rose nodded her head in agreement. "Okay."

The cousins got up from their seats and raced out the front door, running until they reached their neighborhood's park.

~R~P~

Rose and Dudley were sitting on the swings, swishing at random times, making a couple of games out of it. Once they had become bored, they both leapt off of their seats and landed on the ground. They laughed when they fell on their bums. After they both recovered, they got up and headed for home.

As they walked, they talked about the upcoming trip to the zoo for Dudley's birthday.

Rose had only been to the zoo a few times before and was excited that she'd be going again. Correction, she _would_ have been excited if Dudley's friend, Piers, wasn't coming with. Aunt Petunia thought that his bullying was his own way of expressing how much he fancied Rose. Uncle Vernon, however, could care less what his son's best friend did to her. Well, whatever it was, Rose hated it. Even though she felt this way, she let her cousin excitedly talk about the soon-to-pass event.

Dudley finished talking just before they walked into the house.

Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard from the living room, and Aunt Petunia could be seen standing in the kitchen as she made dinner.

Deciding to leave the adults be, the cousins went upstairs to play cards until it was time to eat.

~R~P~

Today was the day: Dudley's eleventh birthday.

If Rose thought that Dudley's normal rude awakenings were bad, she was wrong. Whenever it was his birthday or Christmas, Dudley would get her up even earlier. If Rose didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he was asking to get himself killed. But if Rose thought getting up early and having to endure Piers' annoying attitude was horrible, she didn't know the half of it.

It all started when Rose sluggishly walked down into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was finishing up the final touches on Dudley's special birthday breakfast.

Uncle Vernon sat at the small table reading the morning paper while Dudley was in his seat. Presents surrounded the family, all of them for Dudley. Rose's cousin seemed more than eager to start ripping them open. The only thing stopping him was his mother.

"Now, now, Dudleykins. You shouldn't open your gifts until you've finished eating."

"But, Mum -"

"No buts. Rose, will you help me, please?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," the ten-year-old groggily said.

Taking over the eggs and bacon, Rose slowly began to poke the greasy meat with the spatula that she was holding. The smell should have made her hungry, buy at the moment, she could care less about how good the food tasted. She just wanted to sleep. As Rose began daydreaming about her soft, beautiful bed, Aunt Petunia screeched, "Rose! The bacon! The eggs!"

Coming back to reality, Rose took the first frying pan she saw and placed its contents onto a serving plate followed by the other on another plate.

"Rose, you need to keep a better eye on the food. Especially when it's on a burning stove."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Bringing the two platters over to the table, Rose sat down, wrapping her dressing gown around her small body frame. Dudley was the first to take food before passing it on to Uncle Vernon. Rose was the last person to grab her share.

Noticing how little she took, Dudley asked, "Are you feeling alright, Rosie?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired," said Rose, picking at her egg yolk until it broke.

When Dudley had finished eating, he took the first present he saw. It was the first of many gifts from his parents. Inside of the blue and silver wrapping paper was the new basketball he wanted. He thanked his parents before moving on to his next gift, which was also from his mum and dad.

When Dudley finally came across the gift Rose got him, he tore into it. When the brown paper packaging was gone, a nice pair of socks sat in his lap.

"I knew that you needed a new pair for when you go out, so I got you those."

Dudley smiled. "Thank you, Rosie."

"You're welcome."

Rose felt a bit sad that Dudley didn't seem as excited about his gift as she thought he'd be, but that soon melted away when Dudley decided to wear them to the zoo. This would have made her happy if his pesky friend wasn't coming along.

An hour after breakfast, the dreaded boy arrived. His mother was the one dropping him off. Aunt Petunia was the one who answered the door.

Piers' mother made Rose think of what a snob would be like as an adult. Unlike her son, she had toe-blond hair but had the same dull-blue eyes. Mrs. Polkiss was nice, in a strange way, and mean in an even more bizarre fashion. Rose felt like one minute she was kind and polite and the other she was a horrid, repulsive woman that matched her appearance.

One of the more obvious differences between her and her son was his rat-like face (a lovely feature he'd probably inherited from his father).

While his mother and Aunt Petunia talked, catching up on quick gossip, Piers was able to track down Rose and begin his usual pestering. Rose just wanted to lock herself in her room. (Maybe she could get her uncle to let her do so? As long as it wasn't 'funny business,' he could care less what she did.) But, alas, today was not that lucky of a day.

An hour later, the five of them were in the car and on their way to the zoo. The young girl would be lying if she said that she found the ride enjoyable.

Uncle Vernon complained the whole way to his wife about many things. Today it was the council, politics, the weather, the bank, and motorcycles. On top of that, Piers would occasionally pick on her. Whenever she squealed at her aunt for help, she only chuckled, still convinced that it was his way of expressing that he fancied her.

When they finally arrived, the five of them found that the zoo was packed - since it was a nice, sunny Sunday. When they arrived at the gate to pay for tickets, Uncle Vernon bought the three kids chocolate ice cream cones.

As they strolled through the animal park, she noticed that Dudley and Piers were starting to become bored with the animals. Rose found it hard to believe that Dudley would get bored. Piers, on the other hand, fit the bill quit well.

When they stopped for lunch at the zoo's restaurant, Piers seemed to figure out how to entertain himself again by flinging grapes at Rose and attempting to squirt packaged ketchup at her. Luckily, Dudley was able to get him to stop once a blob of red goop covered her cheek and began to slowly make its way down her face.

After they finished their meals, they made their way to the reptile house. It felt cool and was dark, the only light brighter than the dim lighting was the windows all along the walls. Behind the clear prisons were still snakes and lazy lizards. To Rose, they were interesting to look at. To Dudley and Piers, however, they weren't cool unless they were the dangerous kind of creatures. Rose hated the way Dudley acted around his rodent friend. She knew that he could be a whole lot worse, but she still didn't like it.

Not too long after they entered the building, Dudley found a giant snake that could have easily wrapped itself twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into an oblivion. The magnificent animal lay in glistening, brown coils, looking at one of its tank's surrounding walls.

Rose stood, staring at the reptile, while Piers and Dudley tapped the glass, trying to get it to move.

"Come on, move!" exclaimed Piers as he banged his fists against the almost-invisible wall. The snake ignored the sounds and continued staring at nothing in particular. Piers' face twisted into an unsatisfied manner before he banged his fist against the glass again in anger. "Bloody thing won't move an inch."

Now bored with the snake, Piers walked away. Dudley gave one more look at the snake and then followed his friend to another exhibit. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia went to join them.

Rose, however, stayed behind to admire the snake all by herself. She felt bad for the poor thing - trapped behind an unseen force, the persistent tapping of frustrated children, mindless chatter, and name callings it was given when it didn't do what they wanted it to being the only sounds it heard.

The ten-year-old could see why the snake would hate its life.

Suddenly, the snake flicked its beady eyes towards the young girl. Rose felt herself smile. She'd gotten farther than Piers had. The reptile looked like it had jerked its head towards the annoying boy, as if it were saying 'What a horrible boy. But that's alright. I get little devils like him all the time.' (A mouthful, yes, but that's what Rose felt like it was telling her.)

"I'm sorry about that," said the black-haired girl, pressing her run-away glasses back up her nose with her thumb. "He's such a prat. I wish he wouldn't act like one. I'd say that he's not like this, but, sadly, he is."

The snake continued to stare, unblinkingly, at Rose. This made Rose wonder if snakes could blink.

_I don't think they can_, she thought to herself, _but, then again, I could be wrong. I'll have to ask a zookeeper if I ever come across one. _

"I wonder where you're from?" Rose looked at the sign next the glass. On it were the words: Boa Constrictor, Brazil. This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Brazil? Wow. I've never had the pleasure of meeting someone whose ancestors are from South America. You must be very lucky, Mr. Snake. Or is it Mrs. Snake?" Looking back at the snake, she apologized, "I'm sorry that I don't know your gender. I hope that you're not offended."

Mr./Mrs. Snake gave her look, like they was telling her that it was alright.

Rose smiled.

Before Rose and Mr./Mrs. Snake could continue their lovely pretend conversation, a loud noise interrupted them. "DUDLEY! MR. AND MRS. DURSLEY! COME OVER HERE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT THIS SNAKE IS DOING!" yelled Piers so loud that Rose wondered if the boy thought that everyone was deaf.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands shove her roughly out of the way.

"Move it, twerp," said the very rude boy before leaning against the glass.

A wave of sudden anger came over Rose. How _dare_ he push her onto the ground? And Aunt Petunia thought that he fancied her! Well, if he did, he wouldn't treat her this badly.

Before Rose could get up and push him back, the snake's tank disappeared. Piers let out a scream of surprise as he fell forward into the boa's prison. Mr./Mrs. Snake, seeing this, rapidly uncoiled their body, slithered out of the cage, and began to glide across the floor.

The ten-year-old watched this event with wide eyes as people noticed the reptile creeping across the concrete. Shrieks of horror echoed throughout the room as they began to race towards the exits.

Rose would have continued staring at the boa constrictor - who playfully snapped at the heels of random people as it made its way to freedom - if loud, frantic banging hadn't made itself known. Turning her head towards the sound, she gasped at what she saw. Behind a now there again glass wall, was a trapped and soaking wet Piers.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" he yelled, frightened by how he had magically gotten in but couldn't get back out on purpose.

Uncle Vernon eventually got a hold of a zookeeper who immediately made his way to the tank's spare door that the zookeepers used to give the reptiles food.

You'd think that Rose was just as frightened by the incident, but she wasn't. Instead, she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Mysterious or not, Piers' misfortune was definitely something he deserved.

Like everyone else, the zoo staff didn't have a clue as to what had happened.

Once the Dursely's were given a shaking Piers, Uncle Vernon dragged the group back to the car.

The whole ride back, Piers reacounted what he had experienced, swearing that the boa had tried to strangle him to death. During his tale, Aunt Petunia rapidly fluttered her hand in front of her face. The toe-rag even had the nerve to blame his ordeal on Rose.

"Don't be ridiculous, Piers. How could Rose do that?" Dudley tried to reason with his friend.

"She . . . she was mad at me when I accidentally bumped into her, so . . . so she pushed me into the tank."

"Now, how could Rose have made a wall disappear and then reappear, dear?" asked Aunt Petunia, still fanning herself.

"I . . . I don't know," he shyly admitted.

Satisfied with his acceptance of the situation, the five of them became silent. That is, until Piers decided to add a useless piece of information. "I . . . I also heard her talking to the snake. It looked like it even understood her."

If Rose thought that nothing could get even worse than it already was, she was wrong. Her aunt and uncle froze in place, as if they had seen a ghost. The rest of the ride was so quiet you could drop a pin and it would be heard as clear as day.

Once they arrived home and Piers' mother had picked him up, Uncle Vernon turned on his niece, a look of fury on his face. Rose felt her heart stop as he waddled over to her, his finger pointing up the stairs as he managed to sputter out, "Room - now - stay - no dinner."

"But, Uncle Vern -"

"Now!"

Not wanting to anger him any further, Rose obeyed, dashing up to her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

The little girl felt deeply hurt by the way her uncle had spoken to her. Sure, they weren't close or anything like that, but he most certainly never treated her this harshly before.

_Why_, wondered Rose, _would he become piping mad about something that anyone else might have done? I know that I wasn't breaking any rules. _

Rose spent the rest of her day utterly confused as she sat in her room with an empty stomach. At one point, she released a heavy sigh before lying on top on her bed. _I shouldn't have gotten mad. Especially when I know strange things tend to happen when I do._

Growing up, odd things would happen whenever Rose felt angry or scared.

One time, when Rose was five or six, she and Dudley were playing catch out in their front lawn. When the red ball they were tossing around bounced into the street, Rose ran after it. As she was about to step off of the curb, a car zoomed by inches away from her face. Frightened, Rose put her arms in front of her face. A loud _pop_ soon followed. The sound turned out to be the wheels of the car that had almost flattened her.

Another time, when she and Dudley had gotten into an argument, she became so angry that she could see the color red. During this, a raspberry pie that was cooling in the kitchen exploded.

And that was only the beginning of the long list of things that happened whenever she felt these certain emotions. And every time things like the above happened, she would be given disapproving, and yet curious, looks from her guardians.

She'd never been punished like this before, though. It made the girl wonder what was so bad about having a pointless conversation with a snake.

_Why_, she wondered, _would I be in trouble for pretending to talk to animals?_

_Because_, a voice whispered inside of her head, _it's not what normal people do_.

If that were the case, then Rose hated being normal and wanted to be abnormal. Yes, abnormal sounded like the perfect thing to be.

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><p><strong>Just a few things before I go. First off, I just watched <em>Reck It Ralph<em> for the first time. It was cute and kind of original. Wasn't the best Pixar movie out there, but it's by far better than most of the films that Disney has made recently. **

**Next, I'm going to be busy catching up on some of my reading, so this story might come a bit slower. Sorry about that :( **

**Finally, I'm sorry that I'm asking this of you, but can you please review? Reviews make me happy and help me improve as a writer. They also tell me if anyone even likes my stories. **

**Well, until next time, see ya later!**


	4. Happy Birthday, Rose!

**Hello! Sorry it's been so long. School has been . . . meh. I've also been a bit lazy. But I finally have the next chapter up. (Yay for me!) **

**This chapter wasn't read by a beta reader because . . . I don't know why. But what I do know is that she has a life and it's been nice of her to set aside some time whenever she's available to go over the chapters I send her to read and correct. **

**I also figured that since I'm on break this week that I should start working some more on this story, so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Harry Potter_ books. J.K. Rowling does.**

**In loving memory of Richard Griffiths, the man who played Uncle Vernon. A man who left this world after sixty-five years of life. This chapter is dedicated to you, Richard. May you rest in peace. And thank you, for playing a big part in one of the most magical stories ever. "There, there . . . . It's not really good-bye, after all."**

**Beta reader: Me, Cloudcity'sbookworm.**

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><p>Once upon a time, Rose had been told that her parents had died in a car crash. Other than that, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia refused to go into further detail about the unfortunate event.<p>

All ten short years of her life, the only family Rose knew were the Dursleys. During these ten years, they made the following things very clear to her: We love you, but we expect you to follow our rules and to not ask any questions about things you shouldn't stick your nose in.

Her mother and father's deaths were classified as things one shouldn't linger on.

The few dim memories Rose had of her life before her new family was of a man's out-of-tune singing voice, the humming of a woman, and a blinding green light that was soon followed by a searing pain in her forehead. These were the only clues she had as to what her life was like before the Dursleys.

She also had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt etched into her forehead. It wouldn't have been odd to Rose if her uncle would have never complained about its oddity ("Someone having a lighting scar? Well, I'll tell you this, it's not normal. Not normal at all. Who else has a mark like that?").

More than once, Rose wondered if she was even meant to be normal. It was something her aunt and uncle strived for and encouraged their little ones to meet, too. But try as she might, something out-of-the-ordinary always seemed to happen.

_Am I even meant to be like my family? Or am I meant for something else?_ Rose had thought that night she was sent to bed without dinner.

Unbeknownst to her, Rose Potter was in deed meant for something else - something even greater than she or anyone else could ever dream of.

~R~P~

Rose's punishment was even longer than she thought it would have been. By the time Uncle Vernon lifted her dull sentence, the first day of the summer holidays had begun.

Since summer had officially started, Dudley's friends constantly visited their home. Sadly, Piers was among them. However, ever since the Boa Constrictor Incident, he steered clear of the black-haired girl. This made Rose very happy. The less she saw of him the better.

Whenever Dudley had company, Rose would shut herself inside of her room where she read, slept, or doodled. When Dudley didn't have his friends visit him, the cousins would spend the day outside in their neighborhood park.

As each day ended, Rose's eleventh birthday approached. Dudley had even marked the day on their kitchen's calender so a big, red circle trapped the thirty-first of July in its hold.

Rose enjoyed the thoughts of birthday cake and the few presents she would get and often found herself smiling when she daydreamed about the upcoming event. But, at the same time, a certain ache would overtake her. When the next school year would finally arrive, she would be going away to secondary school. She'd be far away from her family.

Rose had no trouble with staying a great distance from home - in fact, she loved the idea. But the thought of not seeing her family everyday saddened her.

The ten-year-old had been accepted to a girl's private school while Dudley had been accepted into his father's old school, Smeltings.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Rose and Dudley to London to get his uniform. That very evening, Dudley wore his new apparel.

The look her uncle gave his son was full of pride while her aunt burst into tears saying how handsome her 'Ickle Dudleykins' was becoming. Rose, however, decided not to say anything. She had never seen a more ridiculous outfit in her whole life. Dudley didn't seem to mind. However, if he did, he never let on.

All Rose could think of was how glad she wasn't a student of Smeltings.

~R~P~

The next morning, the Dursleys and Rose sat in their kitchen, eating breakfast, when they heard the _click_ of the mail slot and the _plop_ of mail being dropped onto the floor.

"Dudley. Go get the mail," demanded Uncle Vernon without looking up from his paper.

"I don't want to. Make Rosie get it."

"Rose. The mail."

"What? Why me?"

"Go."

"Why can't Dudley do it?"

"Now, Rose."

Sighing in defeat, Rose got up from her seat, leaving her half-eaten bacon and pancakes behind on the table. When she reached the front door, Rose saw three pieces of mail lying on the doormat: A post card from her uncle's sister named Marge, a brown envelope that was most likely a bill, and a letter addressed to Rose. It read: _Ms. R Potter, t__he bedroom next to Dudley Dursley and across the hall from the loo, 4 Private Drive, __Little Whinging, Surrey_.

_Must be an early birthday card from . . . from . . . Hmm. I don't know who. Maybe from one of our neighbors?_

The letter was in a yellow parchment envelope. The words were written in green ink and there was no stamp. It also felt a little on the heavy side.

_Odd. _

Turning it over, Rose saw a purple wax seal that had an eagle, lion, snake, and badger surrounding a large letter H. It was a coat of arms.

Rose opened the envelope and slowly took out the letter. The ten-year-old soon discovered that her mail wasn't an early birthday card after all. It was an acceptance letter to a school she had never heard of before: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_.

_I wonder where that is? And why does it say that it's a school of magic? _

"What's taking you so long, girl? Hurry up!" called Uncle Vernon, irritated with how slow his niece was being.

Rose began to walk back to her relatives as she continued to read through the strange letter. Nothing on it made sense to her. Order of Merlin? International Confederation of Wizards? What are those? Some silly clubs? And what does it mean to send an owl?

What she _did_ understand was the school's starting date - which was September first - and that whatever it meant to owl a response was due no later than July thirty-first.

_My birthday. _

When Rose re-entered the eating area, her Uncle took the un-read pieces of mail and began to scan through them. Turns out the brown paper was indeed an unwanted bill and the postcard told the family that Aunt Marge was feeling ill since she ate something bad. Before Uncle Vernon finished talking, Rose asked, "Uncle Vernon, what's Hogwarts?"

The room became deathly silent.

"What?" said Uncle Vernon, not believing what he had just heard.

"I said, 'What's Hogwarts?'"

The girl's guardians became so pale, Rose could have sworn that they'd just seen a ghost. Unsure of what to make of the current situation, Rose kept glancing back-and-forth between her aunt and uncle. "What's wrong? Why are the two of you acting so funny?"

Snapping out of his trance, Uncle Vernon snatched the letter out of his niece's hands. "Who gave you this?"

"I . . . I don't know. It doesn't have a return address or stamp on it. I thought that it was an early birthday card for me. Do . . . do you know who _did_ send it to me?"

Sharing a brief look with his wife, Uncle Vernon slipped the letter into his back pocket. "It's none of your concern as to whether I know who did send it to you or not. Finish your breakfast."

Rose opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and immediately closed it. She spent the rest of the silent meal picking at her food until her aunt told her to either stop playing with it or go up to her room. Rose took her plate to the rubbish bin and scraped the remaining contents into it. She placed the plate into the sink before making her way upstairs, all the while thinking about what her letter really meant and why the Dursleys, minus Dudley, refused to say a word about it.

~R~P~

The next day, the same thing happened. It was like someone had taken the strange letter and re-sent it. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shared the same look as they had the other day before the beefy man took it from poor, confused Rose. And the day after that the same thing happened again, only this time, two were delivered instead of one.

"Blast!" Uncle Vernon nearly roared as he took the newest editions.

Looking outside of the front windows, he got an idea. He would bar the mail slot, therefore preventing the letters from no one to do nothing but be forced to go away.

That very evening, the banging of nails could be heard throughout the house.

Rose and Dudley raced to the door, finding a crouched Uncle Vernon hammering pieces of wood to the mail slot. Once he was done, he announced in a satisfied voice, "There. That ought to keep those pesky letters out of this house."

"My dad's going mad!" Dudley whispered to Rose.

Rose only nodded her head.

Why on Earth, she wondered, would he go through so much trouble to stop these notes from being given to her?

~R~P~

On Friday, twelve more letters arrived for Rose. Since they couldn't enter through the mail slot, they were slid under the door. Upon seeing this, Uncle Vernon tore his hair out of his head, his face bright red. "When will they ever learn? Those people are infuriating!"

Rose peeked around her chair as Uncle Vernon angrily snatched the letters and raced to the fireplace where he threw them into the fire. When he was done admiring his work, he went to the garage and came back only minutes later with more boards, nails, and hammers. He spent the rest of the day covering every single crack he could find.

By the time he was through with his pointless task, the front door looked like it had come straight out of an OCD man's worst nightmare. Grunting, Uncle Vernon turned and went to put the left-over materials back where they'd come from.

But that didn't even stop the letters from coming.

~R~P~

The next day, Rose woke up early since it was her turn to set the empty milk bottles outdoors. Still groggy, Rose went out the back door with the bottles and slowly made her way around to the front of the house. Uncle Vernon's paranoia was really making his niece question his sanity.

When she finally reached the front doorstep and bent down to place her burden on the ground, a brown flash passed the corner of her eye. Looking up, Rose came face-to-face with a bird.

Squealing in fright, Rose fell backwards and into the bushes. A couple of dogs barked, having heard the noise that Rose had made.

When Rose recovered, she slowly got back onto her feet while staring at what had spoked her. Rose soon discovered that the brown bird was an owl.

_What's an owl doing in an English neighborhood? _

As far as Rose knew, owls tended to stay away from places like this and only came out at night. But even if that wasn't the case, the ten-year-old knew for sure that owls don't place their feathered faces in front of a human girl's featherless face.

What was even more odd was that despite the sounds Rose had already made, it still remained in the same place she had the privilege of finding it in.

The two remained a moment more in silence until Rose decided that it was time for the creature to be on its merry way.

Rose began motioning her hands in front of her body. "Shoo! Shoo! Go on. Shoo!"

The owl remained, watching the black-haired girl with curious, tawny-yellow eyes.

Seeing that this bird wasn't leaving anytime soon, Rose brought her hands back down to her sides. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

As if in response to her question, the owl brought one of its tiny feet up in the air, hooting softly. Tied on its small, delicate foot was a yellowed parchment.

"Is that for me?"

The owl only continued to stare at her until she tentatively untied the paper from its clawed foot. Even when she took it, the owl remained as still as statue.

"What are you still doing here? Don't you have somewhere to be?" Rose shook her head. "Great. First snakes, now owls. If I was grounded the first time, then I don't want to find out what I'll get for this."

Turning her attention back on the letter, Rose felt her breath catch in her throat.

_Oh, not again. _

It was another mysterious letter that her aunt and uncle refused to let her have. Slowly, Rose raised her green eyes back towards the pair of yellow eyes that patiently awaited her.

"Okay, owl. I'm kind of getting the hint that this letter means more than I think it does, so . . . I'd appreciate it if you found your master and brought him back to me."

Suddenly, an idea came across the young girl's mind.

_Owl. Message . . . I wonder if this is what it means to owl someone. So if someone can send a message to me by owl, then that must mean I can do the same thing. Maybe I can finally get an answer to all of this. _

"Alright. I think I get what you're saying. Wait right here. I need to write something."

Rose ran to the back door and up the stairs until she reached her bedroom where she headed straight for her desk to write a note for the animal to give back to its owner. On it, she wrote: _Sorry, but who are you, and what is _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?_ Can you please tell me? And please hurry! From, Rose Potter_.

When she was done, the ten-year-old folded the note. "Now all I have to do is -"

A tapping sound outside of her window interrupted Rose. Opening the curtains, Rose saw the adorable brown owl sitting on the outside of it.

"Well, I guess that means that I don't have to make the ridiculous trip outside again."

A hoot escaped the owl's beak as it held out its foot. Figuring that it wanted the letter, Rose tied it to the tiny bird with the string that was previously on its foot. Expecting it to fly away, Rose became curious as to why it hadn't done so.

_Maybe it's not a messenger bird after all. _

_Clanks_ and _clumps_ echoed throughout her room, brining Rose back from her thoughts. The owl was now on top of her desk, searching for something.

"What are you looking for?"

"_Hoot. Hoot_," was its only response as it continued whatever quest it was on.

Eventually, the owl became excited and was now trying to reach whatever it had found. Wondering what could have it so interested, Rose began to follow the owl's view line. After shoving aside a pile of dog-eared books and old assignment papers, she found a half-eaten shortbread cookie.

"I was wondering where I put that," laughed Rose. "You must want a reward for your services. Well then, here. Have some of this cookie."

Rose broke a fair piece of the treat into a reasonable size for the bird to eat. Once it was done, it gave a final hoot and then disappeared into the morning air. As she watched it turn into a speck of flying dust, Rose decided that this morning had been very interesting. She also decided that three-week-old shortbread tasted pretty good, too.

~R~P~

"Today is a happy day," said Uncle Vernon. "Want to know why, children?"

"Why, Dad?" asked Dudley as he took a doughnut from the plate his mother had set out.

"Because, it's Sunday! Which means no post! And there wasn't even a single letter yesterday, either." Uncle Vernon did a hardly noticable sort of jig. Whatever made him this cheerful made Rose feel . . . well, she didn't know exactly how to feel about the situation. Dudley didn't seem to like it, either.

Aunt Petunia, however, enjoyed it so much she felt inspired to bake her husband's favorite cookies: bear claws, white chocolate macadamia, and oatmeal raisin. The worst part was that he remained this way until the very next day, which was a Monday - the day of Rose's eleventh birthday.

All morning long, a new side of her uncle seemed to come out of him. He was perky, less stressed, and utterly happy. He even played around with Aunt Petunia, taking frosting from the bowl she was using, making his wife playfully slap his hand.

What was even more odd was that he asked Rose what she wanted to do. This was way out of character for her uncle, even on her birthday, and especially on a  
>Monday. Everyone hated Mondays, and Uncle Vernon seemed to be up in the top ten list of people who wished it would be executed on the spot.<p>

To escape the oddness of the situation, Dudley and Rose went and hid in their secret spot down the road from their house and spent the rest of the day there until it was time for dinner.

Once they arrived home, the smells of Rose's favorite meal welcomed them. Fresh, buttermilk biscuits sat on the table, steam rising into the air. Buttered green-peas glistened in the light, and a garlic cod was the center of attention.

After the cousins washed up, the small family began to eat. Once everyone had their fill, Rose was given the few presents she had this year.

The first was a green jumper Aunt Petunia had knitted. Uncle Vernon had gotten her a new copy of a book that she loved to read since her old one was starting to fall apart. The last gift was from Dudley.

"Here's mine," said Dudley, eagerly handing her his gift.

Rose tore apart the wrapping paper until she found the box that was hiding the present. Dudley had a smile on his face that kept getting bigger and bigger as she got closer to finding out what was inside. Finally, the eleven-year-old lifted the lid. What Rose saw made her gasp. Inside was a sterling-silver, heart-shaped locket. Opening the locket, Rose saw a picture of the four of them. Turning it over, Rose found an engraving that wished her many more happy birthdays and love.

"Oh, Dudley. I love it. Thank you so much!"

Before Dudley could say 'You're welcome,' Rose wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug. Dudley couldn't help but smile.

Bringing herself away from her cousin, she asked, "Will you help me put it on, Aunt Petunia?"

Rose's aunt made her way around to her niece's seat, took the necklace from her hands, and clasped it together. The jewelry hung elegantly around the beaming girl's neck.

"Thank you, everyone, for the birthday dinner and gifts."

"You're welcome."

"You're welcome," Dudley echoed his mother.

Uncle Vernon only grunted.

After that was said and done, Aunt Petunia went into the kitchen and came back out with a triple layered chocolate cake. On it in big letters was 'Happy Birthday, Rose!' Little, red roses surrounded the dessert. Aunt Petunia placed the treat in front of her niece before she took out a match, struck it, then lit the candles one by one until they all glowed.

"Make a wish," said Dudley, leaning towards his cousin.

_What should I wish for?_ she wondered. _I have everything that I could ever want. _

Finally, after a minute of deep thought, Rose figured out what to wish for. As Rose prepared to blow out the flames, a loud knock echoed on the front door. Startled, the family faced the door, another thundering knock came from outside.

"Who could that be?" wondered Aunt Petunia.

The knocking became louder and more forceful. Finally, the mysterious sound stopped as if it was cut off abruptly.

"Finally," said Uncle Vernon, still slightly annoyed at the rude sound. "Blow out your candles, Rose."

Rose, still wondering what the sound was, bent towards the flaming, waxed sticks, and blew them all out on her fourth try.

Then, as if a strong, forceful wind had blown against the house, the front door fell down - despite all the boards, nails, and whatever else Rose's uncle had managed to find. In the door's place stood a giant man.

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><p><strong>So that's it. I hope you enjoyed it! And happy early Easter, for He has risen indeed!<strong>


	5. The Keeper of the Keys

**Hello! And happy Easter Sunday, everyone! **

**I finally have the next chapter posted. It will probably be a long time before the next one is up because I'm still re-writing it. Oh, well. Baby steps, right? **

**I would like to apologize in advance for any incorrect vocabulary of the one and only Hagrid. He's probably the hardest character to write dialogue for. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Freakin' Potter. J.K. Rowling does.**

**One more thing before we start. CallaLily13. She can't beta read my story anymore :( I'm going to miss her. She was such a great help. Thank you, CallaLily13. I wish you luck with your stories and I hope that you, along with other viewers, enjoy the rest of Rose's story :)**

* * *

><p>"Abou' time," said the giant. "I had trouble remembern me way through yer neighborhood."<p>

The family stared at the strange man as he squeezed his way through their doorway and began to make his way to where they were sitting. Everyone remained silent until Uncle Vernon finally blurted out, "Who the dickens are you? And who do you think you are, barging into my house? I can have you arrested for trespassing and breaking-and-entering!" Uncle Vernon's face was a bright red color, reminding Rose of an almost-ripe tomato.

The huge intruder only ignored him and stood in front of Rose. The look in his glinting eyes was giving the eleven-year-old was strange, as if he hadn't seen her in centuries and was finally reunited with her . . . . Like she was a long-lost friend.

Rose didn't know if what she felt was comfort or discomfort.

"As I live an' breath. It's Rose Potter! Last time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby."

"Um . . . ."

"You look like yer mum. Her eyes an' everything like tha'. But yeh got yer father's hair an' eye-sight. Course, there's no need ter feel 'shamed bout it at all. Yer a nice balance o' both o' 'em."

Rose was caught off-guard. This strange man whose face was covered by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard knew what her parents looked like?

"I . . . I do?"

"Yeh sure do. Fer yer personality, well, I guess I'll have ter get ta know yeh some more. Mind if I sit here?" he asked seeing the extra empty chair. Instead of waiting for a response, the giant man sat down. The chair gave a great, squeaky sigh like it was Atlas and the giant was the sky.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise, the kind when he knew something that he didn't want anyone to know other than himself. Including secrets. _Big _secrets. "Sir, I demand that you leave at once, or I'll call the -"

"Oh, shut it, Dursley. No one wants teh hear yer complain'."

Uncle Vernon had never looked so mad as he did now. "Now, see hear -"

"I said, 'Shut it.'"

Uncle Vernon sputtered as if he was struggling for words to say. "If you think that I'll let you barge into _my _house and act like we invited you over, you thought -"

The giant gave Uncle Vernon a look, making Rose's uncle stop and reluctantly go quite. The giant slightly nodded his head before turning his attention back on Rose. "An' a very happy birthday ter yeh, Rose." The wild-looking man glanced at the uneaten cake. "I see yeh already got yerself a dessert." The man shrugged. "Still, maybe yeh could use an extra treat." The man reached into his large, black over-coat and pulled out a slightly squashed box. Giving the white box to Rose, he apologized, "Sorry 'bout tha'. Might have sat on it at some point during me journey here, but it'll taste alright."

Slowly taking the lid off, Rose saw another sticky chocolate cake with green icing on top of it that read 'Happy Birthday, Rose!' Looking up at the mysterious intruder, Rose could only say, "Who are you?"

The man chuckled as if the eleven-year-old had just told him a funny joke. "Sorry abou' tha', too. Me name's Rubius Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You can call me Hagrid, if yeh want ter."

There was that name again: Hogwarts.

_He must be that strange owl's owner. _

When Rose didn't say anything, Hagrid looked at her curiously. "Yeh do know 'bout Hogwarts, right?"

"No. Sorry. I don't."

Hagrid looked at her in shock. "What?!" he practically barked. "Yeh mean teh tell me that these people havn't told yeh _ANYTHING '_bout Hogwarts, the greatest school ever built?!"

"No?" Rose said, unsure of what to say to this clearly upset stranger.

Hagrid looked sharply at Rose's guardians. "Don't yeh ever wonder where yer parents learned what they knew?"

"Um . . . what do you mean? What did they know?"

"WHAT!"

Rose stared with wide eyes as Hagrid leapt to his feet and glared at her aunt and uncle.

"You mean teh tell me that Rose Potter doesn't know 'bout who her parents were!? I never expected this. First the letters, then her not knowing the school tha' 'er mother and father called home an' now this! I thought that 'er sending a letter back ter the school meant tha' she _did_ know."

"What do you mean!? She never sent _anyone _a letter. It would have been impossible for her to do so, you bloody lunatic!" shouted Uncle Vernon.

"I actually did send a letter, Uncle Vernon," said Rose.

Everyone's eyes looked at the small black-haired girl.

"What?" said Uncle Vernon. "When?"

"Yesterday, when I put out the milk bottles, an owl with another letter visited me. I wanted to know what Hogwarts was, so I sent a response." Rose looked at Hagrid. "You are the little brown owl's owner, right?"

Hagrid, during Rose's admittance to sending the letter, was staring at her. "No. I'm not." His eyes glanced back at her guardians. "So, you out sma'ed yer uncle? Clever girl. Very clever indeed." The giant chuckled.

Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to slap his niece silly. "You . . . you sent a . . . a _letter_?"

"Yes?" she said, still unsure of how to answer the adults in the room.

"But . . . but how? How could you possibly know how? We haven't even told you about your -" Uncle Vernon stopped mid-sentence, as if he were catching himself from revealing a life-or-death secret. He shut his mouth immediately.

Hagrid, however, caught his slip up and even seemed to understand what he had meant to say. He never looked as furious as he did at that very moment. Glaring at Uncle Vernon a glare that could stop an army of a thousand, blood-thirsty and ruthless men, Hagrid said, "You mean teh tell me, Dursley, that yer niece, Rose Potter, knows nothin' abou' who she is? Who her mum and dad are? Tha' she and 'er parren's are famous?"

Rose felt her eyes widen. "Excuse me, what? My parents, famous? For doing what? Acting? Giving thousands of pounds away to the poor and feeding the homeless?"

Hagrid looked down on the confused soul, pity and sadness swimming in the depths of his eyes. "No. Nothin' like tha'. Not like tha' a' all. Rose, yer a -"

"Don't you _dare _speak another word to her," Uncle Vernon demanded. "I forbid you to tell the girl anything else."

"Why should I? No one else has told her who she is. Yeh've kept the truth from her fer far to long." Turning his attention back on the topic of the discussion, Hagrid said, "Yer a witch, Rose."

"I'm a _what_!?" gasped Rose.

A witch? That seemed impossible. Witches only existed in fairy tales. Not in England, and certainly not in real life.

"A witch, o' course. An' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh been trained up a bit. With a mum and dad like yers, what else could yeh be?"

Rose could only stare at Hagrid, still not believing what he had just told her. Shaking her small head, Rose apologized, "I'm sorry. But I'm afraid you're mistaken about my parents. My mum and dad died in a car crash when I was a baby, so they couldn't have been . . . a witch and a wizard."

"CAR CRASH!? A CAR CRASH!?" Hagrid roared. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter!" The giant of a man got up from his seat and began to advance on the Durselys who were slowly backing away from the unwanted guest. "How dare yeh leave poor Rose oblivious to who she is! Especially when everyone in our world, '_er _world, knows abou' 'er?! Blimmy, even newborns know 'bout 'er, and the one person tha' every magical folk has been talkin' abou' fer ten years who doesn't know a single thing 'bout 'er is 'erself!?"

Rose felt shocked. Some man who she had never seen before in her life had come out of no where, knocked down her bolted front door, told her that her parents hadn't died in a car crash, that she was a witch, and that her dearly loved aunt and not so lovable uncle had known about all of this ever since she came to live with them.

Before she was given the chance to ask if any of this was true, Uncle Vernon said, "We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to this rubbish and that we'd stamp it out of her!"

Rose felt her heart sink into her stomach with her birthday dinner. They've know all of this all along and had never told her about any of it.

Tears stinging her eyes, as Rose said, "You mean you knew all along? You knew that I was a witch? That my mum and dad didn't die in a car crash?"

Her relatives remained silent.

"What else don't I know about who I am or where I came from? Am I part unicorn, too? Was my grandfather the Duke of York? Did I have a tail that was surgically removed? Am I a child of a billionaire?"

Hagrid chuckled. All of these theories that Rose was coming up with was enough to anyone laugh. Part unicorn? A tail? As far as Hagrid knew, Lily never had an animal's tail growing out of her, and James was definitely not related to a unicorn.

When no one answered her, Rose felt even more betrayed by her aunt and uncle. How could they not tell her any of this? How could they lie to her everyday they saw her?

Aunt Petunia reached her hand towards her niece. "Rosie . . ."

Rose shook her head.

"Rose."

Rose moved away from her aunt's touch.

"Oh, Rose . . ."

"No! Don't act like this. Why did you lie to me? Why haven't you told me about my parents? Why haven't you told me that I'm a. . . a . . . witch?"

"It's complicated." Aunt Petunia placed her hands on her niece's shoulders as she looked into Rose green eyes. "We wanted to protect you."

"Are you sure? It sounds like you didn't want me to be like them. My parents! My own bloody parents!"

Aunt Petunia's face became dejected as she saw the look the eleven-year-old was giving her. "You're parents died a horrible death. We didn't want to tell you something that you wouldn't understand or believe. Would you have believed us if we told you that you're mum and dad were . . . magical? That they didn't die a natural, normal death?" Rose opened her mouth to say something, but her aunt interrupted her. "How could you say yes if you didn't even believe _you _were a witch?"

Rose closed her mouth.

"We wanted to raise you to be normal. To be like everyone else. Ordinary. This is what we are use to. This is the world that we wanted you to be a part of. But I can see that your parents world, _your _world, is where you truly belong . . ." Aunt Petunia sighed, as if what she was about to say was the hardest thing she ever had to do. "I think you should go to Hogwarts."

"Pe . . . Petunia," Uncle Vernon stuttered, not believing what his wife had said. "You . . . you can't be serious."

His wife looked at him. "When have I never been serious, dear? Besides, Ha . . . ."

"Hagrid, Mum," said Dudley, speaking up for the first time in a while.

"Thank you, Dudleykins. Hagrid is right. It's time that she knows who she is and where she came from."

Everyone in the room looked at the tall, blond-haired woman, not believing what she had said.

"Aunt . . . Aunt Petunia?"

Aunt Petunia turned her attention back on her niece, a smile on her face. "That's right, love. I think you should go to Hogwarts." Looking up at Hagrid, Aunt Petunia said, "If you think that's best for her."

Hagrid, still befuddled, shook his head to clear his mind of confusion. "O'course it's best fer Rose. Why wouldn' it be? I'll owl Dumbledore immediately."

He then began to search his very large overcoat until he pulled out a rather ruffled-looking owl, a long quill, and a roll of parchment which he began to scribble on with the quill, his tongue between his teeth. Once he was done, he rolled up the note, gave it to the owl - who clamped it between its beak - and brought the bird to the very open front door, and threw the creature out into the evening sky.

After this, Hagrid came back into the room that the small family was in and sat down on his seat. "If yeh don't mind, Mrs. Dursley, I was wonder'n if I could spend the night. I've got teh take Rose into town ta pick up 'er school supplies."

Aunt Petunia looked surprised to be called Mrs. Dursely, like she was an unworthy servant whose master had kindly acknowledged her. "No, I don't mind. You can stay in our guest room . . . the bed might be too small for you, though."

"It's alrigh'. Not every day Muggles have extremely tall wizards spend the night."

"Muggles?" asked Rose, unfamiliar with the word.

"Non-magical folk."

"Oh."

Hagrid then glanced down at the table. "Why don' we eat some cake. It is yer birthday, Rose. You should be enjoin' it."

The eleven-year-old only nodded her head as Aunt Petunia asked her which of the two desserts she wanted a slice of. Not wanting to offend either of the two bakers, Rose asked for a small slice of each.

~R~P~

That night, Rose couldn't sleep. With Uncle Vernon arguing with Aunt Petunia about Rose going to Hogwarts, who could blame her? Aunt Petunia would say "Of course I don't want her to go, Vernon. But she needs to." Her husband would say something in response like "I'M NOT GOING TO PAY FOR HER TO GO TO A SCHOOL TAUGHT BY A CRACKPOT OLD FOOL!" and then his wife would say "SHH! Don't wake them up. We don't need an angry wizard blowing up our house."

Rose sighed, staring up at her bedroom's ceiling. She couldn't believe her uncle sometimes. He really needed to learn how to control his temper.

On top of that, she had so many questions to ask Hagrid about her parents. It's funny, she had thought, how a stranger seemed to know more about her mum and dad then her her aunt and uncle did.

Eventually, sometime before ten-thirty, the arguing stopped and the house became silent. Not long after, Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard echoing in the hallway. Rose decided to take this opportunity and sneak into Hagrid's room.

Slowly, Rose got out of her not-so-warm bed and began to tip-toe out into the hallway, praying that the floorboards wouldn't play the song of its people and give her away. Finally, Rose made it to their guest's room and slowly opened the door.

Silently, Rose snuck into the spare room and walked up to the bed that was obviously too small for the giant of a man. The bottom part of his thick legs hung over the end of the bed, the mattress almost touching the floor, while one of his arms hung over the side of the inanimate object, his knuckles brushing the floor.

Going up to his side, Rose began to shake his shoulder. "Hagrid?" she whispered.

He continued to snore, oblivious to the curious girl.

"Hagrid?" she said, shaking him even harder.

But, no matter what he might have felt, the man kept on sleeping.

Frustrated, Rose began to think of another way to wake him up. Finally, she got an idea. Leaning down next to where she assumed his ear was, she said even louder, "Help! Someone's trying to get me!"

Hagrid's eyes shot open as he quickly sat upright in his bed. "Huh? What?" Hagrid felt a light tap on his arm.

"Down here."

Hagrid looked down at a messy-haired child with lopsided glasses. For a moment, the poor Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's tired mind thought that James Potter was sitting next to him in the dark room.

"James?"

"Um, no. I'm Rose."

As his mind finally caught up with him, Hagrid remembered where he was and why he was there. "Sorry. Thought yeh was yer dad, which I'm guess'n yeh figured out. Is it time to wake up yet?"

"Ah . . . ."

Hagrid glanced outside the window. "Blimmy. There's not even a ray a sun ou' yet."

"I know."

"Yeh know?"

Rose nodded her head.

"Then why did yeh wake me up so early? Yeh should be gettin' some sleep, too."

"I know I should be asleep, but I couldn't sleep." Rose looked Hagrid in the eyes and whispered, "I wanted to ask you some questions . . . about my parents. About me and where I came from."

"Now, Rose. That's a lot a questions teh ask someone in one night. You can ask me in the mornin'."

"But -"

"Don't worry abou' havin' enough time to ask me questions. You'll have plenty a time fer that when we buy yer school supplies."

"Alright. I'll go to sleep, if you answer one of my questions right now." Rose knew that Hagrid had his mouth open to say something in protest. "Please? Just one? I promise that I'll go back to bed after you answer it."

For a moment, Rose was afraid that he had gone back to sleep. That is, until he sighed and said, "Fine. But jus' one."

"How did my parents die? I know now that it wasn't because they were in a car crash, so what actually killed them?"

The giant man remained silent, a great sadness surrounding him.

"They were murdered, weren't they?" Rose asked, scared of what he had to say.

"Yes. They were."

"By who?"

"I . . . I don' like sayin' his name -"

"Please tell me. At least try to say it."

"Alrigh'." Hagrid gulped as if a thick wad of a peanut butter sandwich was stuck in his throat. "His name was _Voledemort. _But we call him You-Know-Who. Nobody likes sayin' his name, an' I don' wan' ta say it again."

The room became deathly silent again as the answer sunk in with Rose.

"There's a lot more to yer parents death then jus' one person's name, yeh know. I'll tell yeh more 'bout it on our way inter town. Yeh need teh get some sleep. Got a big day ahead of yeh tomorrow."

Rose nodded her head before getting back onto her feet. When she was in the doorway, she said, "Good-night, Hagrid."

"Good-night, Rose."

With one more glance over her shoulder, Rose left the guest room, shutting the door behind her. She had barely taken a step when Hagrid's snores were heard once again.

* * *

><p><strong>So, that's it. See you next time in Diagon Alley! I can't wait :) How about you?<strong>


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